


Back Room Magic

by angstlairde



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 1920s, Bigger On The Inside, F/M, Ilvermorny House - Horned Serpent, Magical Rooms, Reader-Insert, Would Be Hufflepuff, magical plants, reader is a witch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstlairde/pseuds/angstlairde
Summary: You're an herbology expert and potion master in 1926's  New York, and your love of plants led you to open a shop for both No-Majs and wizarding folk. With the advent of the Second Salemers, however, magical business has sadly declined. That doesn't stop one wizard with a peculiar blue coat and magical case from finding your shop, though, and you quickly find you have much in common with one, Newt Scamander.





	Back Room Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [percieux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/percieux/gifts).



> It's a horrible title, really... >.>  
> This is a Happy Birthday present for inkcieux aka percieux on tumblr and also my first ever reader insert fic, so please bare with me and let me know what you think/how i did
> 
> It will also probably be part of a series, but we'll see lol

Barebone’s at it again, you thought as you passed one of the Second Salemers meetings on your way back to your flower shop. Well, the flower shop was a front - literally. Now, you did do business with No-Majs, but in the back room was the real business. You sold magical plants and potions for magical folk, and business had been pretty good with both, but with Mary Lou Barebone on the loose, magical business had declined.

Arriving, you pushed the door open, glancing up at the painted sign on the window which read  _Pots and Plants_ , and smiled when you saw your tabby cat, Selina on the front counter.

“Well, good morning, Selina! You’ll never guessed what I picked up for the back today!” You pulled a medium sized pot with a small, weak-looking dirigible plum tree from your battered leather satchel. “I rescued this poor thing from a half-destroyed greenhouse. I think that invisible terror ruined it,” you told your cat, as you made your way behind the counter to the door in the back. “And I picked up some moonseed, too.” You slipped your rowan wood wand from your pocket and waved it at the ivy covered back door.

“Alohomora.”

The door clicked and unlocked, and you pushed it open to reveal the much larger room. It was at least twice as large as it should be, and three times taller, making rooms for trees, and tall shelves full of books, potions and potion bottles, and potted plants. You had just placed the plum tree in a sunny corner, when a bell dinged, informing you of someone in the front.

“I’ll be with you in a jiffy!” you called, waving your wand at the watering can in the corner, and setting the sack of seeds on your plant-covered desk. You slipped out, shutting the door quickly behind you - you never knew who it could be. A tall house plant blocked the view of the door, and whoever was there, and you moved it to the side.

“Sorry about the mess,” you said, brushing some dirt onto the floor, and finally getting a look of who it was. 

It was tall, thin man, with reddish, curly hair, and a blue coat and holding an ordinary case, looking a bit out of place, and tucking something into his pocket.

“Oh, it’s no problem, no problem at all,” he said with a British accent, waving a hand. “I just, erm, was told this was the place to go, for plants of a special variety -” he gestured over his shoulder out the window - “such as advertised in your ad, and was wondering if you could help me?”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What exactly are you looking for?” you asked not unkindly.

He shifted on his feet and glanced up at you from under his hair.

“Well, I heard from a friend I could get some toadstools, of the jumping assortment here.”

You grinned. A wizard at last.

“Right this way, sir. I’ve got just what you need.” You beckoned for him to follow as you unlocked the back door. “I don’t know the last time I had an actual wizard here. All the mess with the Second Salemers has been bad for business.”

You bustled about the room, untangling vines and pots, and separating two venomous tentaculus from each other, while the man stood in the doorway looking a little amazed. Selina brushed past him, with a hiss at his case, and settled on a shelf in the sun next to a pot of asphodel. 

“Ah, gee, I just realized, I’ve never introduced myself,” you said, suddenly, turning to the man. “I’m Y/N L/N.” He took your hand.

“Newt Scamander.”

“So how many toadstools do you need?” you asked, leading him back into the corner filled with jars and crates of mushrooms and such. Newt shrugged when you looked back at him, and didn’t seem to have heard the question, as he was gazing around the warm room still.

“Mr. Scamander?”

He looked at you then, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, right, erm, sorry, I just need a small handful. It’s just that I’ve ran out,” he said, brushing his hand over his pocket again.

You nodded.

“Ah, I see. If you’ll just give me a second, I’ll have you ready to go.”

You climbed a few rungs up a ladder propped against the shelves and started rifling through the different containers, looking for the leaping toadstools. Just as you’re about to reach the jar, your elbow knocked a one off the shelf. Your eyes widened and you reached for your wand, but then the jar stopped, barely a foot off the ground, and Newt Scamander was holding it up to you. He frowned, when he saw the label, and asked,

“This is Death-Cap?” He looked up at you, confused. You swallowed, pried the jar from his frozen fingers and replaced it on the shelf.

“I‘m not one of Grindlewald’s extremists, I don’t make poison or anything, I swear,” you said earnestly, turning around on the ladder. “I just pick up the bad ones when I find them and store them here so no one else can get them. I’ve got alarms set up and everything.” You brushed a finger the shelf ledge. “I’m not going to let bad guys get my plants.”

You turned back to Newt, and tentatively held out a convulsing sack of leaping toadstools. Surprisingly, he didn’t look all judge-y, just… understanding? What was that about?

“You don’t - you don’t think that’s… weird?”

Something like a smile skittered across Newt’s face in response.

“No, no, I - I understand the feeling.”

You smiled a hesitant smile, confused and unsure at his words. But that was when you noticed the little green Bowtruckle peeking out of his coat pocket. Your eyes lit up instantly.

“A Bowtruckle!” you exclaimed, hopping down the last few rungs. You faltered, however, and glanced up at Newt, not quite meeting his eyes.

“This is Pickett,” he said without preamble, lifting a hand for the Bowtruckle - Pickett - to get on. “Pickett, this is Y/N.” He smiled a little, encouraging, and you held out your own hand. 

“Hi, Pickett,” you said, grinning. You looked up at Newt, beaming, and told him, “I always liked Bowtruckles. I’ve met several on occasions I’ve encountered wand wood trees.”

Newt nodded.

“Yes. I -” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost as a shrill bell went off, warning you that a No-Maj had entered the shop. Your eyes widened.

“I have to go. So do you. Here, you can leave through the back door.” You shooed him towards a door in the corner, he hadn’t noticed before and yelled, “Just a moment, please!”

Just as you and Newt reached the door, Newt caught your sleeve.

“Wait, Y/N. I haven’t paid you yet.”

“Oh!” You had to think a moment, gather your wits. “8 sickles.”

Newt fished the money out of his pocket, and you tucked it in yours. You turned, and Newt reached for the door, but then he stopped again and called your name. You turned, starting to get frantic. Newt pointed at your shoulder.

It was Pickett, starting to yell at you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, flustered, pulling him off and giving him back to Newt.

“Y/N.” You looked up at him, and for maybe the first time all day, he met you in the eye. “It’ll be alright.” He ducked his head, hiding behind his untamed curls, and glanced at you. “Erm, I was wondering… if I could come back? Later, I mean, I’m not in New York for long, but..” he trailed off, not sure of his words. You gave him a gentle smile.

“Of course you can come back, Newt. I’d - I’d be a little disappointed if you didn’t.”

Newt straightened up, then, like something was taken from his shoulders.

“I’ll see you soon, then, Y/N. Goodbye.”

Then he actually left, and left you chewing on your thumbnail, pondering the strange encounter, before the bell went off again, demanding your presence.

 

_\- A Few Days Later -_

 

You leaned you chin on your palm, running your fingers down Selina’s back, as you read the newspaper spread out on the counter. After Newt Scamander had left, it seemed like things only got worse. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had something to do with it, and wished you could talk to him, but the last you’d heard he was taken in by MACUSA. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to come back. You tried not to feel too disappointed.

A flash of peculiar blue in the window caught your attention.

The bell jingled.

You looked up. You smiled.

“Hello again, Newt Scamander.”


End file.
